Change for the better
by Bestbuds55
Summary: It was hard not to cry to see his twin not recognize him when their eyes met. "You're our hero Stanley." He buried his face into the other man neck and a few tears leaked out of his eyes when Stan flinched like he wasn't sure what to think of Ford. That's when the lies started and it just escalated from there.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: It's been a long time since I have wrote anything; and I was I could say it wasn't because I was too depressed. People tell me I'm working myself into the ground, but I'm doing the best I can. It's important to me to not give in a lay there sad about things I can't help. At the same time I know it's important to have moments of joy and quiet down-time. That's what writing is for me, so I'm gonna do my best to pick it up again. Sorry for the babble, and hope you enjoy the fic!**

 **I was on Tumblr and read something around the lines of at the end of the series Ford lying by emission and telling Stan only about the good things of their life so he would be happier. The feels just spilled out and this happened. AU, and things don't really match up exactly to the show but this is my fantasy damn it.**

It was hard not to cry to see his twin not recognize him when their eyes met. Ford stayed strong even as Dipper pulled Mable away from Stan to make sure he wasn't over whelmed. The children were in tears and Mable was screaming about how much they loved him and why had he went and been so brave. They wanted the Grunkle they had spent the summer with back, the one they had quickly grown to love.

Ford's feet carried him to Stan in seconds and he dropped down to clutch at the old man he hadn't even bothered with re-equating with in the weeks since his return to the proper dimension. His voice was rough with emotion and things that even Stanford's mind can't begin to comprehend. "You're our hero Stanley." He buried his face into the other man neck and a few tears leaked out of his eyes when Stan flinched like he wasn't sure what to think of Ford.

And then Stan was confusingly patting him on the back, like he was the one whom needed comfort. This was his brother in the rawest form there was; kindness even if he didn't understand what was happening. It was starting to rain, which cut Ford's time to think a bit short. "Let's get your Uncle home to rest before a storm picks up." He stated pulling away and wiping at the stray tears. The young Pine twin continued to cry, but nodded none the less; holding hands in sorrowing and leading the way back to a mostly destroyed mystery shack.

Stand immediately tried to make the best of the situation just like he had every other day of his life; pointing out that he liked the chair that almost felt familiar to him. It was hard to listen to him compliment a building when the rain was pouring in, everyone had to cringe at it. Thankfully, it's wasn't long before Wendy came by and said they should crash with her family because the rain was going to get worse and the Shack was in bad condition. She offered space for the two older men as well; but Ford was quick to decline for the both of them. Stanley should be in a familiar environment, in case some kind of memory was going to come back and besides the bunker wasn't far away from where the Shack had landed and had never sustained a scratch to his knowledge. Ford had been living down there anyways, so it was perfectly equipped.

They were alone together before Ford could even think twice and he was trudged them down the way to the bunker which had once been connected to the house; before the house had apparently sprung legs and fought a battle. He didn't try to explain that to Stan; had barely spoken to him at all. Worried about breaking the innocent confusion in his brother's eyes and forcing him to remember every bleak memory that was technically Ford's doing.

The bunker was the same as he had left it before the crazy had started up; neatly made bed in the corner, small fridge to the side for treats, a dresser full of old clothes that he couldn't bring himself to move, coffee machine and finally a microwave to rewarm said coffee for the 5th time. Everything else was stacks of research, papers, and mechanical inventions. A single door that lead to a practically hole in the wall bathroom, which included a shower in case he needed it for some kind of science emergency. "Is this where I live then?" Stanley muttered quietly picking up a piece of discarded unfinished invention, and Ford's heart broke just a little bit more.

"Of course not, homes the shack just too much damage to spend a storm through in right now. We'll rebuild it to be better than ever and then be back home in no time. I built on most of it the first time and I can do it again. You'll love it." He didn't mean to make it seem like he had built it originally for them to have a home together, but in the end it didn't matter to much because Stan gave him a small, slightly confused smile, and went to the dresser pulling off his wet clothes along the way.

Ford almost laughed at how confused Stanley looked pulling out the clothes that appeared to be at least a size too small for either of them. He had probably been expecting clothes that would have somewhat fit. "Long time ago we fought badly enough that I stayed down here. Kept those to remind me; there's a laundry basket of clean clothes by the fridge." Technically, those sentences was only two steps left from the truth.

Stanley pulled on a sweater that looked warm and it stretched perfectly to show off all his curves. Questions pooled around them as they finally talked, and Ford just wanted that face to stay happy. Wanted it more than anything. "How long have we been together?" "Forever."

"How long have we been living in this Mystery Shack then?" "Over 30 years." He was pretty sure that Stanley had been there the entire time he hadn't been, so they could just pretend he always lived in the basement rather than the horrible truth of dimension jumping and brothers fighting.

Years of their life wasted because they couldn't keep it together and work as a team for what Ford now understood as he thought himself so smart and Stan not, that he never even let him try to help. "Were we happy here?" "I've never seen you look as happy as you have been having those kids this summer." That was the direct truth, Stan had been so happy to be with those little twins and watch them play, and grow up together. He did his best to answer Dippers questions and bent immediately under Mable's will. Ford hoped he would remember it.

"Mable has a scrapbook of the summer that I sure she'll be over-joyed to share with you once we get some rest and this storm passes." Ford pulled off his outer layers as well, choosing a sweater for himself and some sweatpants unlike his brother whom had apparently decided sweater and boxers were enough. Stan gasps and Ford looks over in worry that something could have gone wrong in the 10 seconds he hadn't been paying attention.

Stanley reaches out and touches one of his numerous scares and looks desperately sad. Shit, was all that ran through Stanford's mind, he should have gone and changed in the bathroom. It had been years since he thoughts of the scars he had accumulated when he was young and weak. Thinking brain and talking could get himself out of every situation; he had eventually learned that acting and fighting while not his preferred things were a necessity to survival. Stan's fingers are light and careful, like he might break the other into a million pieces. "What happened?"

That question was hard to hear and Ford wasn't even sure how he even wanted to answer it; this could ruin everything and make Stanley look at him differently for the rest of their lives. "Don't worry about it, it happened a long time ago." That was the best he could do on his toes that wasn't a single word of a lie and it just got easier from there.

Stand still looked devastated. "Where was I?" There was really no going back at this point, Ford had sunk himself in pretty deep. "Safe." Stanley had been safe in the shack trying his best to pick up sciences that he never understood in his life to bring Ford home. Stan makes a small, wrecked sound that is full of feelings and that same undertone of confusion.

That enough for tonight, they can get some sleep and with that maybe Ford's brain will start functioning better and supply him with better answers. He used to be such a truthful person too. Stan comes with him to bed with no resistance and since there is only one bed they'll just have to deal with this tonight. They are both far too old to be sleeping on the ground, and a little bit a comfort would go a long way after everything they have experienced.

They lay together and Stan sleeps soundly, almost immediately. It's not surprising with his memory gone why would you fear anything or have a care about the dark. Stan curls around him like he knows he needs comfort and they end up holding hands. It's nice, and if Ford sleeps a lot better than he has in a long time; well no one has to know that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: The idea for this one just came for me at the dinner table. Okay, I was eating in front of my laptop; don't judge me. Final chapter as I've decided that this is just better as a two-shot. And it ended up being a darker Ford then I had originally planned, but protective and/or dark Ford holds a special place in my heart. Beginning to work on a Feral Ford fic with the completion of this one, so I hope you'll check that one out when it's posted! Thanks for reading and sorry for the delay better the chapters!**

The sleep that they both so peacefully fell into really didn't last long; it ended abruptly with Stan gasping out in his sleep and suddenly twisting around. Almost like to escape something. That motion had Ford up within seconds and ready to act or destroy whatever had come his way while he was resting. His heart raced and it took him a few moments to realize that it was just Stanley crying in his sleep.

That thought made his heart twist at the mumbled no's coming from his twin's mouth and he had to shake him awake. There were tears that just became stronger as he woke up and flinched from the feeling of a hand on him. The old man looked wrecked and Ford wondered if the illusion was over; just how much did he remember? Then Stanley began to talk and Ford wanted to rip the past apart to stop it from ever happening.

"You weren't there, and I was alone. Without as much as a coat. Was it real; how long were we apart?" Ford was more tired now than when he went to sleep what had probably been only a couple hours ago. His mind caught up with exactly what to say quickly enough though. "It was about me going to college, we had a big fight and it took a few years to reacquaint." Was there really that much difference between a few and a lot? Ford was too tired to think about it.

"It was so cold and I felt lost, no purpose and no direction. No means of landing on my feet, I made everything difficult. I, I let men touch me and felt filthy. I remember that laying down for the, sometime more than one at once and hoping with this I would forget about things. Sometimes it was for money and sometimes it was just because they paid for a room for a night." Stanley cried through his words, and Ford thought he might vomit.

He had thought about Stan after Dad had kicked him out, had pictured him going and working on a ship like he had always wanted, or working construction because he had the body type for it. Now he could only picture him cold and alone, unable to get a job do to how young he was. He pictured the first time selling himself would be to an old man, similar to their age now; with a more perverted taste. Ready to break an already damaged soul and drag him down to his lowest. It was hard to swallow and suddenly Ford felt like he should join in on crying. He couldn't though; Stanley needed him at this moment and while he hadn't been there for his brother in the past, he could be there for him now.

Paint an image and go with it. Ford tugged his brother close to him and squeezed tightly; those tears were breaking his heart every time one fell. "That was a rough time in our life, I went to college and you disappeared. I missed you so much and eventually found a trace of where you were." This was absolutely a lie now, but Ford needed to say this. It would be better to be a fraudulent hero then a traitorous stranger. The story that wasn't even true just kept spilling out of his lips. "You were in the back of a bar that night I finally tracked you down, giving head to some stranger while people sneered around you. I pulled you out of that godforsaken place and threw punches at anyone who was in my way. I didn't even say anything to you as I shoved you into my car, I'm not even sure if you knew it was mean because I had changed so much in our years apart."

Stan clung to him and shook with despair in the air. "I don't remember. Just remember feeling lost and having a raw throat and the filthy feeling that I got when other guys touched me." This was much too real and Ford was destroying things with lies, but the chances of Stanley ever getting his memory back instead of a few flash back was next to impossible.

"That life is long over, we've been here safe and happy for so long together. You've always been safe hear with me. Stan you might not remember but I can still remember you shaking and afraid when I got you into that car; when I stripped your clothes off and threw you into the shower. When I finally spoke up and you looked up because you recognized my voice and we both ended up crying on the shower floor because of everything that had happened between us." That was it, the lies were strapped in and Ford had no way of backing out. Not that he wanted to in the slightest, because Stanley curled close to him and looked into his eyes with trust and love that hadn't been there since they were just children.

That look was empowering and truth be told; Ford was the older sibling and should have done a much better looking out for him. How could he let so much wrong happen to the one who followed him screaming into this world? Stan, who used to hold his hand when the other children called him a freak and even took the blame so that their father never so much as raised an eyebrow at him. The same brother that he had kissed the bruise of and later on moped up blood for. Stanley was undoubtedly his to take care of and it was about time he started doing a better job.

He hugged Stanley close and kissed the top of his head defiantly. Ford took in his twin's swallowed breath and drug his lips down Stan's cheek next. The other was still, but didn't pull away in the slightest. "This feels familiar, do we always do this?" Stan murmured and leaned farther into Ford, like he was holding onto a lifeline.

A lump formed in Ford's throat that was quickly swallowed and not so easily digested. Just who had Stan been with in this vulnerable position, and why weren't they still around? No, Stan was his and his alone. They had always done this, been this close; cuddled together, kissed each other. Now that Ford was back home, they would never have to be apart again.

Stan didn't kiss him back the first time their lips met, but on the second persistent pull from Ford, he relented and opened his mouth to the older twin. It was heaven to kiss Stan, just as Ford had pictured for years. They molded together like they had come out of the same package, just like Ford had always known they would. He pulled back to smile at Stanley, and let him catch his breath. They were both tired and old, this would have to continue when they had more energy. Like in the morning after they woke up in each other's arms, tangled so much you couldn't tell one from the other. That didn't stop Ford from pulling his yawning twin in for another kiss and then dragging his lips back up to rest on the others forehead. "Get some sleep Stan, we can talk more in the morning." He explained tiredly.

Stan pouted a bit, but listened to Ford's wise words like he should and settled back down to sleep. "And if in the morning I want to do something more than talk? You know, to jog my memory." Stan spluttered out nervously.

Ford grinned at him and kissed the tip of his nose. His brother certainly was perfect in every way, and besides doing things that had been done thousands of times before was good for jogging memory. He could wait to remind him just how healthy their sexual relationship had been and all the things that Stan had never been able to get enough of. First things first though, sleep.


End file.
